Fragrance: Scandalous
by D-chan
Summary: Elena prepares to be angry, but catches Damon in a compromising position.


Nighttime in the Salvatore mansion always seemed bigger and more ominous than anywhere else. Perhaps it was that and the lingering, uneasy memories that stirred a restless Elena out of Damon's borrowed bed.

She didn't mean to be gone long. Considering the exhaustingly frightening events she'd endured in the past year, Elena very well knew she should be within a trusted person's sight at all times. She may have grown stronger under Alaric's tutelage, but at the end of the day she was still human—and her foes were not.

All the same, a cup of herbal tea might calm her nerves.

These days it was impossible to get a full night's rest. Stefan had turned cold and calculating, Damon had woken Elijah who in turn had woken the rest of the Original family, and the terror and fear for Elena and her loved ones' safety and health was a nerve-wracking worry. And with Alaric's immortal ring gradually failing him, it was difficult to call her own home comforting.

So when Damon had offered her his bed while Alaric remained in the hospital overnight, Elena had only argued half-heartedly. These days she often seemed to be putting up a fight simply because it was Damon and that was normal for them. In the end, she had crawled beneath the covers and Damon had lain atop them on the other side of the bed, carefully avoiding any contact with her. And, in the end, he had fallen asleep immediately while Elena stared at the moonlight's gradual waltz across the walls.

Admittedly, she was nervous. Not because she thought Damon would make any untoward moves, but because it was hard to pretend that this wasn't the same bed she had kissed him goodbye in months earlier. That, in turn, reminded her of the breath-taking moment they'd shared on her front porch, when his mouth had pulled her in and left her winded, confused, dazed . . . and flushed.

Kissing Damon had felt new and exciting and _right_. In moments such as this, when all was quiet and there was nothing but his peaceful breathing and her palpitating heart, Elena found herself replaying the kiss in her head.

As much as her enemies frightened her, it wasn't really them she needed calming from at the moment. It was her wild imagination and the stirrings of unfamiliar arousal just knowing Damon was within reach.

_Tea,_ she thought. _I came downstairs for tea._

The Salvatore mansion tended to stock more alcohol and blood than any other refreshments, but Elena managed to find a nearly untouched box of peach tea. The real problem was locating a teapot. The vampires stocked glasses, silverware, dishes, pots, pans, and an espresso machine, but no teapot. Elena had to settle for heating water with an ill-used coffee maker.

Much as she wanted to feel at home, Elena simply could not. Stefan didn't care about her or her family, the Original family wanted her dead and happened to have largely unmonitored access to the house, and Damon seemed to swing from wanting her to dazzling other women with his affections. A jealousy Elena was hard-pressed to acknowledge boiled in her belly.

All the same, Damon had kept her safest for longest. Though she hardly wanted to sleep beside him, knowing some of the women he wantonly made love to, Elena could rest easy in spite of herself.

Just not tonight. For whatever reason, not tonight.

Half an hour and two cups of tea later, Elena grudgingly trudged back up the stairs. No sound alarmed her outside of the barely audible patter of her footsteps.

But when she reached Damon's room, her barely perceptible night vision told her he was no longer in his bed. For a moment, she thought he had gone out to hunt. A whole different, alien, and uncomfortable jealousy poisoned her stomach.

Then she heard the shower.

Elena glanced at the alarm clock. Even for Damon, it was awfully early (or late, depending on the point of view) for him to be showering. A queasy suspicion told her that his hunting had gone down more violently than anticipated.

Choking down her anger, Elena crept over to the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, sending a golden sliver of light across the luxurious carpet. The Salvatore mansion oftentimes seemed overly plush, but in the moment Elena was grateful for the superfluous money spent. The carpet helped her walk quiet as a cheetah.

A longing sigh froze her momentarily. Elena knew the sound. Not from Damon specifically, but she knew it all the same. A white-hot, dazzling jealousy gripped her as she realized, _He brought another woman home._

She had no claims to him. For months she had spurned his advances, told him it was wrong. All she had done was give in to his breath-taking kiss. And all that had told him was that she wasn't utterly adverse to the idea. Elena had no right to be upset.

But she was.

Dozens of scenarios flew through her mind as she maneuvered to peek into the bathroom. Most of them ended with her yelling at him; several had the depressing epilogue of Damon scorning her and demanding she leave. Regardless of how it ended, a crazy, impulsive part of her needed to see the woman who had enamored Damon so much as to fuck her while Elena dozed in the adjoining room.

The bathroom mirror was enormous, giving her a full and fantastic view of the shower and expansive wall. From her vantage, Elena could see Damon leaning against the shower's rich tiles, his eyes closed and lips parted in unaware bliss. Hot spikes jabbed Elena as she lowered her gaze to the blurry sight of the shower's sliding door, looking for a tousle of dark hair on the slender type of girl Damon seemed so fond of.

She saw nothing of the sort.

Blushing furiously, Elena turned her eyes away. Heat spread from her ears to her lower belly, accompanied by tingles of shock and embarrassment. Because Damon wasn't with another woman.

He was touching himself.

She should have gone back to bed then. Elena pictured herself tiptoeing across the room, climbing back into the warm comfort of Damon's expansive bed and lulling herself to sleep. Instead, she turned her eyes back to the mirror. The warmth in her face grew to a blazing fire. She was a voyeur now. And yet, knowing how dirty and wrong it was, she couldn't look away.

The muscles in Damon's arm tensed and flexed as he stroked himself; his breathing quiet but labored. Water spraying freely from the shower made his skin glisten, his hair fall in dark, damp strings. Without realizing it, Elena drank him in entirely, noting his prominent brow and intense yet dazed expression as he continued to pleasure himself. It was hard to imagine him a monster when he was so raw in this moment, caving in to a sheer human need to relieve himself sexually.

It didn't take long for that relief to come. Damon tensed a split second, ejaculating into the man-made rainfall. For a few moments he continued to stroke himself, easing off only when he was utterly spent.

If he hadn't noticed her yet, he was certain to now. Still uncomfortably hot, Elena hobbled silently back to the bed. The comforter was too warm now. Had she been home and alone, she would have stripped naked and pressed her hand into the comforting position between her thighs.

Closing her eyes was a struggle, but she was soon rewarded when the spout abruptly turned off. Not even a minute later the bathroom door creaked open. If not for the sinking of the mattress behind her back, Elena never would have known Damon had left the bathroom. He smelled clean and sweet, like spice and lavender.

A small sound left her before Elena recognized what she was doing. Damon paused atop the blankets, shifting a little.

"Elena?" he asked softly.

She could have pretended she was asleep then. Yet something in his voice told her that Damon was fully aware she was awake. Then, she could have also simply pretended he'd just woke her up. _Where were you?_ she could have asked, or, _Did you just come in?_ or even, _Thank you for being with me tonight._

Instead, she opened her mouth and uttered the one stupid, insipid question she had no chance of escaping.

"Were you thinking of me?"


End file.
